Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow
by Walking in stardust
Summary: 1 year after the Barricades, Marius return to the Rue Mondetour in order to fofill a promise he made to Eponine. Musical/Book based. Don't bash me, but please R and R!


**Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow**  


_  
*Please note that the characters in this story are not mine, but Victor Hugo's. Also, the title and a few other lines are Herbert Kretzmer's. No infringement on copyright is intended. The story, however, is my own.*_   
  
Marius walked into the Rue Mondétour and shuddered. He hated this place, and he'd never wanted to come back. There were too many painful memories here, memories that wouldn't fade and that woke him in the middle of the night, ghost-white and covered in an icy sweat. All of his friends, save Cosette, had died here, fighting for what they believed in. They came with dreams and aspirations of , and it never came. They washed the ground with their blood, sweat, and tears, and their battle cry became their last words. He had almost died here, too. That had been his intention: to die, but for a cause. Instead he lived. Now, he was trying to move on, and coming back here was not helping him succeed. But he had too. For Éponine. God, that was the most painful memory of them all. At least when the rest of his friends died, he had been unconscious. With Éponine, he had held her in his arms and watched helplessly as she faded away. There was nothing he could do but hold her in her last moments. He remembered everything: her words, her blood, his tears, as if it had just happened. The memory was so emblazoned in his mind and it unwillingly began to play.   
  
_ Please don't cry, M'sieur Marius, Éponine said, her voice barely above a whisper, but confident. Hush now. I'm nothing to cry about.   
How can you say that, Ponine? You're my best friend, said Marius between tears. He was cradling her as if she were a little child. Blood from the gunshot wound in her chest pulsated with each of her shallow, irregular breaths and was painting the ground crimson.   
Don't fret, M'sieur. It pains me none. Think of this as rain, and rain makes the flowers grow.   
Yes, Ponine, but rain always ends-   
And the sun shines again, she interupted him. After the storm, the sky clears and it becomes bright again.   
I don't want this storm to end, Ponine. Please don't die.   
M'sieur Marius, I have a letter for you.... from Cosette. I have had it since yesterday. I didn't want to give it to you, but that would make you unhappy. I don't want you to be unhappy. Take it and smile for me. I want to see you smile, hear you laugh. Don't cry, for we will all meet again soon, won't we?   
Yes, Ponine. We will. God wouldn't be so cruel. Marius gently took the blood-stained letter from her hand, and, without even looking at it, placed it in his pocket. He brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face as he weakly smiled through his tears.   
Her eyes closed, and she winced in pain. He took her tiny hand and held it tightly in his own large one. Her face went through a transition. It had been confident and strong, as though she were trying to be the brave one. Now there were tears and fear in her eyes when she opened them. She tried to disguise the terror in her voice when she spoke, but it really didn't make a difference because by now she was gasping for breath, desperately trying to push the words out. Did you know,... M'sieur Marius,... I... I love you... I love you so much... But now... She blinked and silent tears streamed down her pale, dirt-smudged cheeks. It's too late... for us... It was too late... when you met her... But... but I'm happy for you... Promise me one thing... Kiss my forehead... when I die... I know I'll feel it.   
I promise, Éponine! I swear! Marius sobbed, losing what little control he had. Please, please don't die! I would give anything if it meant you would live! You can't die, Ponine! You're too young! You're only sixteen!   
She spoke again and her voice became surprisingly calm. I'm cold, M'siuer... I'm so very cold...   
I'm here, Ponine. I'll keep you warm. He pulled her closer to him, as if his arms could shield her from death's grasp. Please don't leave me, Ponine. I love you.   
You... you do? was Éponine's surprised reaction. What about Cosette?   
It's a different kind of love, Ponine, but it's just as strong. I don't know what I'll do if I lose you. Please don't die, Éponine. Please... His tears fell uncontrollably to her face and mixed with her own.   
Shh... Remember:... rain... makes... the flowers...   
Her voice trailed off. Marius quickly bent down and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Then her body went limp and her hand slipped from his and fell to the ground. He pulled away and looked at her now peaceful face. On her lips there was the hint of a smile. Fresh tears rolled down Marius' cheeks as he bent down to kiss her forehead. He held her tight and barely choked out one single word, _  
  
Marius took a deep breath, trying to push the memory from his mind. He didn't want to forget her. No matter how painful the memory was, the look on her face after the life left her body was a breath of fresh air. It was so peaceful, so calm, so happy. It was one of the only times he had ever seen her content.   
Marius pulled himself together. He had a promise to keep and tears would get him nowhere. He was surprised he remembered that promise. He had made it over two years ago, before he had met Cosette. He and Éponine had been good friends. She would meet him by the café at the end of the day and they would walk home together, talking and just enjoying each other's company. Sometimes they would take a longer route home so they could keep talking. Éponine would show him things he never noticed, like the way the moon reflected off the river, or the way the sunset used the sky as its canvas. She saw so much beauty in her world of misery. Marius soon learned to see things like her. Not only did he see the beauty in everyday life, he saw the beauty in her. Although it was fading from her face, it radiated brightly through her soul.   
  
_ Hello, Marius said as he walked out of the Café. Musain How was your day?   
All right, I guess. Nothing ever really changes in my life. Same boring routine everyday: wander the streets and try to avoid my father and that awful gang. Éponine shrugged, pulling herself up from the ground. So,... anything interesting happen to you?   
Not really. Then he got a mischievous little half-smile on his face. Will you allow me to escort you home, Mademoiselle? With that he offered his arm.   
Éponine gave a short laugh and took his arm. Why thank you, M'sieur. Why you would want to be seen with someone like me is beyond everything I can think of. People will think the Baron Pontmercy is courting an ugly street rat!   
I don't care what people think, Ponine. You're my friend. He put his hand under her chin and raised her head to look at him. And you're not ugly.   
You're too kind, M'sieur Marius. Éponine raised her glassy eyes and muted blue met deep brown. Marius gently bopped her on the nose and smiled as her cheeks flushed slightly, added just a hint of color to her porcelain face.   
M'sieur Marius? We need to take a little detour.   
  
To the Rue Mondétour. It will only take me a second.   
  
You'll see.   
They walked in silence until they reached the Rue Mondétour. Éponine lead Marius down a dimly lit street until they reached a small pile of rocks. Éponine knelt by it and Marius followed.   
Nice rocks, Marius joked. Is this what we came here for?   
Well... kinda. See that rock in the back? The pinkish one? Lift it up.   
Marius reached over and picked up a rock with quartz-like pink crystals on it. Underneath it was a small wooden box. Éponine smiled brightly.   
What's this? Marius asked, lifting it out. On the wooden lid was her name, carved roughly, but legibly. Éponine Renée Thénardier. Very pretty. It suits you.   
Éponine blushed again and reached into the pocket of her oversized coat and pulled out a little makeshift book. It was composed of wrinkled, yellowing paper sewn together with a piece of twine. She took the box from Marius' hands and placed the little book inside. He looked at her puzzled, waiting for an explanation.   
This box holds anything that I hold of any value, she said finally. Then she hesitated.   
M'sieur Marius,... Umm.... I want you to promise me something.   
What   
If anything should happen to me, I want you to come back here and get my box.   
Marius put a hand on her shoulder, Nothing is going to happen to you,   
Éponine cut him off abruptly, Just promise me, alright? She was looking into his eyes with such a seirousness that is struck him to the core.   
All right, I promise._   
  
When he had made that promise he had never guessed he would have to stay true to his words. He continued his walk down the Rue Mondétour as memories flooded his thoughts. He could almost smell the spicy scent of gunpowder, hear the desperate cries, taste the tension that had wafted through the air on this very street nearly a year ago.   
There, up ahead, was the little rock pile. Marius knelt beside it, just as he had that evening two years ago. It had somehow been undisturbed by the revolution. It sat in the same position, unchanged by the year that had past since it had last been visited. He lifted the rock in the back; the pink crystals shimmering in the sunlight.   
Underneath was the familiar little box. He lifted it out of its hiding spot, and brushed off the dirt that had collected on it, revealing the carved name. He moved his hand over it, as if reading it through his fingertips. Managing a bittersweet smile, he opened it. The contents were few, but he knew that each one held some special value to her. Inside, resting on a folded piece of fabric scrap, was a small silver ring, a five sous piece, and the little makeshift book. He took a guess that the lone coin was all the money she had to her name. He picked up the ring. It was a simple band, smooth and gleaming, and on it was engraved her first name. It was so tiny; it wouldn't even fit on his pinky. He remembered how small her hand had been in his, and figured that, even at sixteen, it must have still fit her finger. He gently placed the ring back in the box and lifted out the book. He held it in his hands for a while, trying to decide whether or not to read it. To open her book was to open a door to her world, one that was dark, cold, and cruel. But he would never know just how horrible it was until he opened it. What he found scribbled on those pages made his blood boil, and made him pity his dear friend even more.   
  
  
Today father had Azelma and I deliver more letters. It was freezing cold and the snow was falling, blanketing the streets of Paris in white. It seeped through the holes in my shoes and the icy wind bit my cheeks. Poor Azelma was always a few steps behind me, pulling her pathetic excuse for a shawl closer to her, shivering violently. Normally I wouldn't care that she was lagging behind, but today she was burning with fever. I waited for her to catch up to me and I wrapped my arms around her, trying to keep her warm. I wasn't feeling great myself. Ever so often, a dry cough would seize in my chest and my body ached just to move. But I had developed stamina and perseverance far beyond that of Azelma. Our parents cared none that we were both ill. We still must run these ridiculous errands, and pick pockets, and steal. But it is a way of life for us. We must eat to live and steal to eat. I wish life were easier.   
At least I had one burst of sunshine. I saw M'sieur Marius today. And he smiled at me.   
  
Marius often remembered her being sick. She was almost never without a cough, and she always looked tired and worn out. Her pale complexion and tiny frame had been evidence that she had never gotten enough to eat. Bruises, scars, and cuts from fighting to survive on the streets flawed her skin, and the light in her eyes had dimmed long before Marius knew her.   
Marius continued to flip through the pages, reading bits here and there. More often than not she wrote about him. Just a simple smile or a kind word from him could brighten her day, even give her strength to continue.   
One entry caught his eye. The handwriting was shaky, and he soon learned why. Her deepest, darkest, most painful secret was bared on that page. She had never told him that truth when he had asked her about the bruises and cuts that were accompanied by red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Nor why she uttered the name Montparnasse with such disgust.   
  
  
Hurt. Pain. Betrayal. I feel as if I have finally hit rock bottom. Why do I feel like this? I knew what was going to happen. Or did I? No. Now that I think about it, I really didn't have a clue. I knew what Parnasse paid my father for. I knew why I was told to go with him. I knew only that and, even though my heart wasn't in it, I went on my own will. I figured I had no other choice. I felt it was my . My family could eat, Parnasse would stay away from Azelma and life would get the tiniest bit easier for awhile.   
Isn't love suppose to be wonderful? I hear people talk about it all the time. But what they talk about was not what I experienced. Love is supposed to involve joy, happiness, and ecstasy, not fear, pain, and force. It's not suppose to involve being beaten beforehand, receiving a blow every time you cry out, and being held down as your blood mixes with your tears and runs red through the sheets beneath you. I would close my eyes and tell myself, Pretend it's M'sieur Marius. For the first time in my life, my imagination could not bring me out of Hell. M'sieur Marius could NEVER hurt me so! A painful blow of reality hit me, and Montparnasse was in place of my M'sieur Marius.   
So as I sit here on the cold pavement; tears falling to the page, blurring my words; blood still seeping through my rags; pain still surging through my body; I wonder if all love is like this. Maybe the talk on the streets is just a fairy tale. Maybe love isn't real at all.   
Then how do I describe my feeling for M'sieur Marius?  
  
Marius was outraged at this Montparnasse person. How dare he rip a young girl's innocence from her in such a way! There was so much she never told him. If only she had come to him afterword and told him what happened, or at least told him the truth when he had asked her about her injuries and suddenly sullen mood. He would have comforted her and tried to protect her. At the very least he could have reassured her to the fact that he cared about her and was always there for her. If only she had told him that she was in love with him. He knew that, at some point, his love for her could have turned into a romantic love. He had realized that possibility long ago, but had failed to realize her love for him until she was dying in his arms. How could he have been so blind? Yet, despite her feeling for him, she had taken him to Cosette. When he met Cosette, all hope for the love he and Éponine might have shared was lost. Cosette was his true love, his soul mate. Éponine had simply been a dear friend.   
Her account of her life as a rose in misery continued much beyond that terrifying incident. Marius' only comfort in reading her little journal was that she was no longer suffering and in a better place. He had been there for her in the end, comforting and cradling her as she passed from this world. He prayed that she had felt his trembling lips tenderly kiss her forehead. That kiss was not only his promise kept, it was his way of saying goodbye, at least until the met again. Who knows? Maybe her face would be that first one he'd see when his time came and he passed through the gates of Heaven.   
The day had grown late. How long had he been there? He really didn't know. The sunset was just beginning to watercolor the sky as he finally decided to leave. Placing the book back in the box, he closed the lid and stood up. But he felt that there was still something left to do. He had to say one final goodbye to Éponine. How ironic it was that she had hidden her box in the same place where she had died. He slowly walked over to the place where he had held her as the life left her body. All of a sudden, he stopped. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground and began to cry again. For there, in the same spot where God had taken her to Heaven, where Marius had cradled her lifeless body, where she had said her final words, was a miracle.   
  
Growing there was a single flower.   
  



End file.
